


True Colours

by Santillatron



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Break Up, Crowley is not what he seems, Flaming Sword, Gabriel to the Rescue, Ineffable Bureaucracy (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Michael is evil, Where on Earth is God?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 21:14:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20414407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Santillatron/pseuds/Santillatron
Summary: The end of the world is no longer nigh, but the end of Aziraphale's world might be. Crowley has a devastating announcement that changes everything for the Angel. Meanwhile, why can't anyone get a response from God?





	1. Black

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've done this, so please be kind, and feel free to suggest any tags I've missed!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale needs Crowley, but it looks like Crowley no longer needs him.

They hadn’t seen each other since The Ritz. It had been Crowley’s idea of course. It usually was Crowley suggesting things and, what with him being the original temptation, the angel was usually powerless to object. He hadn’t liked the idea, but it made sense. They’d toasted the saving of the world, and everyone in it, then agreed that it would be a good idea to go their separate ways and lay low for a while.  
The trouble was, Aziraphale was bored. He’d done a few minor miracles and seemed to have gotten away with it, but he was missing his companion and the excitement he always brought. He could get himself into a minor scrape and see if Crowley came to save the day as usual, but it was a risky strategy when they were trying to avoid unnecessary attention. It was no good. He’d have to go and find him. He didn’t want to waste any more time. Crowley’s flat would be a good place to start. He locked up the bookshop - more for show than anything as the angel had more than human locks stopping unwelcome visitors, but it helped remind him to blend in. He realised he was holding the apple keyring Crowley had given him as a joke. Yes this has gone on long enough. He needed his companion. Maybe he should take some lunch with him? The demon rarely ate, but he did have a weakness for one thing, he thought as he looked at his keyring. 

Clutching his hamper he approached Crowley’s flat. He’d got the crunchiest looking apples he could find - Crowley always preferred things he could really sink his teeth into. The Bentley was there which was usually a good sign. He went straight up, ignoring the security measures on the street door as usual, but then the street door was used to Aziraphale so it ignored him in turn. 

Aziraphale hesitated at Crowley’s front door. They didn’t normally bother knocking on each other’s doors, but it had been a while, so he straightened his bow tie and knocked. A short knock with only a little flourish belying his nerves. Crowley opened the door a crack and peered through.  
“Oh it’s you.” He sounded distracted and disappointed. After all this time how could he not be pleased to see the angel?  
“We were supposed to be staying apart. What do you want?”  
Aziraphale was a little affronted at his cool reception. He knew the demon liked being cool, but they were past all this by now. He showed Crowley the basket.  
“I brought some food. And your favourite coffee from the place near my shop...”  
Crowley sighed, hesitated a moment, but opened the door and somewhat reluctantly gestured him in. Aziraphale glanced around. Crowley’s flat was a severe minimalist environment. Flat grey walls, and harsh lighting picking out objects he’d collected. Aziraphale was subtly checking for changes. The plants were looking a little more scared than usual. Not a good omen.  
“I thought perhaps we should discuss what we want to do next? It’s been ages since the world didn’t end. We must be in the clear now? Surely. We can go anywhere we want. We could go to Rome again, but have Pizza this time. Those Oysters were NOT a good idea. Or how about Japan? Sushi from the masters! You wanted to show me Alpha Century didn’t you? Or… there’s always crepes…? Anywhere you like...” he trailed off. Crowley didn’t seem that enthused.  
The demon had draped himself across the sofa and had a very odd look on his face. This wasn’t unusual in itself, but this was a new expression that Aziraphale hadn’t seen before. His usually immaculately preened attire seemed to have lost its edge as well. There were creases in his jacket, and his hair, which normally had a glossy life of its own, was dull. He looked tired. And he was hissing more than normal which Aziraphale knew he did when he was particularly angry or upset. He didn’t seem interested in the coffee so Aziraphale tried to hand it to him.  
“I’ve got my own, thanks. That stuff is dire. I lied about it being my favourite.” Crowley sneered. He hadn’t taken his unblinking eyes off the angel. Aziraphale had guessed that he didn’t really come all the way over to his because of the coffee but it was part of the game they played wasn’t it? And after all Crowley was a demon, casual dishonesty was a given.  
“Aziraphale it’s not the only thing I lied about.” He went on “I’d hoped to tell you this gently, but everything’s moving faster than I expected.” Aziraphale stopped fussing with the basket and paid attention. This was formal dishonesty, which he was less keen on.  
“I’m not going anywhere with you Angel. I’ve been lying to you right from the start. None of this was real. Right from the beginning, in the garden. I’m sorry. I was given an opportunity to move up the ranks if I could turn an angel, and I succeeded. I turned you against Heaven. It took a while to work out how I was going to do it, and I wasn’t expecting your weakness to be me, but you were a means to an end. Sure I had fun doing some good again, but this was never going to last forever.”

Aziraphale was very still. He was at a loss, trying to take in what he had just been told. “But how can you say that? After everything we’ve been through together? Is this because I wouldn’t go to Alpha Centuri?” He asked finally. 

“Think about it angel. I’m a demon. The first thing I did when we met was make you doubt yourself. I’ve been tempting you since the garden. It started with The Arrangement - think about all the things I got you to do for me! All those little temptations when really I was the one tempting you. The humans were just something to practice on. I could see you liked them, and I got you to actually try and kill a child. I would have succeeded too, if Madame Tracy hadn’t got in the way. Face it angel, I won, and now there’s no need to pretend any more.”

“If I was just a means to an end then why did you keep rescuing me? Why keep coming back to me?”

“I wasn’t about to waste all those years of work Aziraphale. You are, or were at least, a principality. A prize worth putting some effort into. Nothing more. Did you not notice it was always me suggesting you do the actual deed?”

Aziraphale still hadn’t moved. His whole world was crumbling right in front of him. Crowley could see he was trying to understand and failing. He could see the pain and confusion crossing the angel’s face as he thought back over all their years together in a new way. He could almost hear the shattering of his heart. Crowley needed to get the angel out of his flat as quickly as possible. 

“In short, I don’t need you any more. This is goodbye. And I suggest you don’t stay for any more ‘fraternising’ as I’m expecting some demonic company imminently.” The air-quotes weren’t really necessary but Crowley was getting carried away. 

“Crowley if this is one of your jokes, it’s not funny.” Aziraphale tried, hopefully. 

“It’s not a joke Angel!” Crowley hissed, anger forcing his teeth into points as he flung himself back to his feet. “Let’s face it you said it yourself! We’re not friends and you don’t even like me! Now, they’re coming back and you need to leave. Your books will be missing you. Goodbye Aziraphale. I did tell you I wasn’t niccce.” He hissed. It was childish and he knew it, but there was no stopping now. 

“Crowley, please, what about ‘our side’?” Aziraphale was desperate to rekindle that glow of good he knew was in there somewhere. To find something that they could both cling to. 

Crowley had turned his back. He spoke softly this time.  
“There never was an ‘our side’ Aziraphale. I was never on your side.”

Aziraphale’s face fell as he realised Crowley had, in fact, already delivered his punch line. He mustered whatever dignity he could find, placed the hamper gently on the table, and left, before the demon could hurt him any more. 

After he had gone Crowley loped around his flat. He hurled the usual abuse at his indoor garden but it didn’t help. He tried the radio, but slammed it back into silence when Freddie Mercury summed it up with ‘The years of care and loyalty, were nothing but a sham it seems’. It was a long time before he could look inside the hamper. The daft old fool had even managed to find tartan napkins. And he always found the most wonderfully tempting, crunchy, red apples. Quite... well... miraculous. As he raised one to his teeth he saw the fly land on it and look up at him. 

“Beelzebub!” He sang breezily “how’ve you be-“


	2. Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale gets a gift from Heaven, and a mission.

Aziraphale tried not to think as he hurried back to his shop. Crowley obviously wasn’t an angel, but Aziraphale had hoped that there was enough good left in him to saunter vaguely upwards, with a Dev- Angelically charming guiding light of course. Over some heavenly lunch dates. And maybe even dinners?  
But now Aziraphale felt betrayed. Crowley had used him and he had been cast aside. And out as well. He’d briefly hoped back in the flat that it had been some sort of joke, or test. Or at least that there would be a simple explanation for it. Maybe Crowley had spent too much time alone, looking over his shoulder. He thought about all the times he’d said no, when he should have just said yes. If he’d given in sooner, then maybe they wouldn’t be in such a mess. Or if he’d been stronger, and not given in then he would still have his friend, but then that wouldn’t have been real would it? Out of habit Aziraphale made himself some cocoa. He found the routine calming, and it gave his hands something to do while his brain floundered. He thought about how he’d taken Crowley’s timely rescues as a sign of affection. For God’s sake the demon had walked on consecrated ground for him! Turns out it was for Crowley’s sake. He had even seemed genuinely distraught when the angel was discorporated. But now Aziraphale saw it for what it truly was, and he felt so ashamed. The demon had only been thinking about himself. Aziraphale was just a stepping stone for what Crowley truly wanted. What he always wanted. To be noticed and appreciated. To feel important. Well now he had it. And Aziraphale would never see Crowley again. 

So Aziraphale was now truly on his own. For eternity. As the full realisation hit him he broke down and sobbed uncontrollably in the middle of his shop, mourning the loss of the life he had been looking forward to. He had nowhere to go. He couldn’t go back to ‘Archangel fucking Gabriel’ now and ask for forgiveness. No that bridge was well and truly burned. With hellfire in fact. Perhaps this was what it felt like to fall. He’d let Crowley make him doubt everything. Aziraphale has been so sure of his faith, so sure of God. He had the purest heart. That’s why he was chosen to be the angel of the Eastern Gate! At least, that’s what they had told him. The only thing he had now was his beloved bookshop. He’d accomplished a lot of good in the 6000 years he’d been on this planet, but now he felt tired. He thought about all those precious memories that weren’t real. It left his mind reeling. Maybe it was truly giving up he thought, as he saw another bright ray of sunlight come in through his window. It made the dust swirl and dance and sparkle in such a beautiful way. There had been more of these lately it seemed. Always there just as he was feeling at his most lost and alone. It reminded him of when God used to talk to him right in the beginning, in the garden. Their garden. When everything was still good. He found it comforting. But God hadn't spoken directly to anyone in a very long time. It was all through that blasted Metatron now.  
Oh well. He had nothing left to lose. Even if she wasn't listening he needed to talk. This sunbeam looked particularly bright and inviting, so he stepped into it.  
“Hello? G-God? Are you actually there? I’m so sorry. It’s all gone wrong and I need some help.”

“It’s about bloody time Aziraphale. I’ve been trying to get your attention for weeks. Now, did you ever find that sword?” 

Aziraphale dropped his cocoa. 

He knew that voice. It was NOT the Metatron. 

He wimpered “...God?”

“Yes Aziraphale it’s me. And I need your help.”

“H-help? From me?” 

“Yes, help, Aziraphale. You are the only one I can trust. Now tidy up your cocoa and sit down. We have work to do.”

Aziraphale absent-mindedly blew on the cocoa and it vanished. The blowing wasn’t strictly necessary but that’s how Crowley had taught him to do it. 

Oh, Crowley. 

He was going to have to learn how to forget about him. 

Aziraphale moved his desk into the light. 

“I am, as ever, yours my lord. But there may be a problem with the sword...”

Just then the doorbell rang. “We’re closed!” Aziraphale shouted quickly without even turning his head. 

“Package for you, your principality-ness, and if you don’t mind, it’s rather hot!”

Aziraphale tutted, dashed over to the door, grabbed the parcel quickly, just about remembering to sign his human name and sped back, waving the door shut. Had he paid more attention he might have recognised the courier, and registered the greeting. 

“Open your parcel Aziraphale” God commanded. 

He untied the string that held the box together. Gold string. And come to think of it, it did feel rather warm. As he lifted out his sword, he realised where he had seen that courier before. He was still staring at it when God spoke again. This time with more vengeance in Her voice. 

“Aziraphale, it seems Metatron has taken it upon himself to start giving orders without consulting me first. He’s been cutting me out for a while now. That’s why nobody has heard from me directly. I don’t know who else is conspiring with him, which is why I need you. I fear we are headed for another uprising and with Hell full to burst we need to sort this out properly. “

“I need you to get up there, and cause some trouble.”

Aziraphale was angry. Angry that he’d allowed the demon to make him doubt everything. He knew what demons were capable of, and he’d allowed himself to be tempted. He felt his wings unfurl behind him and as the sword became a hissing, spitting inferno, he knew what he was going to do. He’d tried to be modern and try something new and look where that had got him. He had been dismissed by everyone as soft but he was hiding a core of solid bedrock. He would show them. He would make it right the old way. It was time for some good, old-fashioned smiting. 

There were several ways in and out of heaven if you knew where to look. And Aziraphale had been around long enough to know all of them. He held up the sword, concentrated, and disappeared. 

Aziraphale reappeared in a quiet corner of heaven. His rage burning almost as brightly as his sword. He had lost his faith before, but now he knew he had been right all along, it too, burned inside him. But first he needed to work out who he could trust. An angel came past. 

“Hello! Nice sword. Don’t let Gabriel catch you with that alight, no-smoking policy remember?”

Aziraphale caged his emotional turmoil and let the flames extinguish. He hadn’t been recognised. Which meant Gabriel hadn’t told anyone about what really happened. Or they already thought he was obliterated. Either way, he had an advantage. His emotions had got him this far, it was time for his ingenuity to take over. 

“Ah, yes, sorry. Just testing it. It’s been sitting around for a while so I wanted to make sure it still worked.”  
The angel was looking at his wings. He’d forgotten they were still out. 

“Mind you don’t scorch a feather then...” and with one final sceptical glance she carried on her way. 

Aziraphale folded his wings and sheathed the sword. He wondered if Crowley would have been proud of him, or at least surprised. He immediately wished he hadn’t thought that as a needle of despair punctured his courage. He realised he spent a lot of time wondering what Crowley would think of his actions. That would have to stop. His crutch had turned out to be a cross that he’d somehow been convinced to nail himself to, and now he had to bear it.


	3. Grey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley made a deal with the Devil, and now he's in Aziraphale's way.

“Been? Ugh” Crowley dropped onto a familiar greasy, grey concrete floor. He knew by the smell where he was before he even opened his eyes.  
“Aziraphale is safe now yes? You won’t touch him? That was the deal.”  
“Crawly, Crawly, Crawly. That was quite a performance you gave back there.”  
Oh antichrist, Crowley hadn’t expected Satan himself to be here. He knew Crowley hated being called his old name, but if anyone knew how to get your goat, it was the Devil himself.  
“We won’t touch him Crawly. That was the deal. Have a look!”  
Crowley unfurled to his feet and took in the room. One end was a giant screen that flickered into life as he looked at it. And there he was. His angel. Crumpled in a heap on the floor of his beloved bookshop. Crowley could see the mug with cocoa next to him. He couldn’t hear anything, but he didn’t need to hear it to know the soul searing sound of his angel falling apart. He hoped he hadn’t gone too far. He’d had to be so cruel, but it was for the angel’s own good. He’d nearly cracked at the end and had had to turn away so he wouldn’t have to see his angel’s face when he believed his lies. Aziraphale needed to be back where he belonged, with the other angels. He was sure they’d want him back. And then he could tear them apart from within.  
“Yes Crawly. You made a deal with us. But we made a deal with upstairs. We won’t touch him, but neither will they. They’ll quietly cut Aziraphale out of the picture - the whole business glossed over. No explanations needed. So he’ll be left alone for all eternity with his grief, and you get to watch him fall apart piece by agonising piece. See all the glory of your efforts.”  
Crowley looked round at the devil, horrified, but the screen came with him. Staying in his view.  
“Yes, do you like that? We thought this one up just for you. Didn’t want you to miss a moment of the stupid angel crumbling.” And laughing his terrible cackle, the Devil left. You’d have thought the root of all evil would have mastered a decent evil laugh by now, but there you go thought Crowley as he slumped to his knees in front of this cruel shrine to his poor angel. They really did have a devil put aside for me.

Evil always sows the seeds of its own undoing. By denying Crowley the respite of hearing Aziraphale’s voice, they missed out on what was to unfold. Crowley thought Aziraphale was talking to himself in the sunlight. Nobody realised it was talking back to him  
Crowley had watched as he dropped his cocoa, then as he cleaned it up just the way Crowley taught him. Then as the sword arrived. How could he not? The image was there even when he closed his eyes. He saw as Aziraphale slowly took it out of box, staring at it intently. He saw as the sword came to life in the angel’s hands. How the fire glow illuminated Aziraphale’s soft features. Except they weren’t soft any more. Panic began to rise in Crowley’s throat as the flames flickered treacherously close to all that dusty paper. He just couldn’t bear the thought of the bookshop burning again. The memories of losing his angel once were enough. He did not need to go through that again. But then Aziraphale had unfurled his wings. His body stiffened and as the sword blazed Crowley realised he’d never seen Aziraphale truly angry before. Not like this. He looked ready to unleash the wrath of God. As Crowley watched on, Aziraphale held the sword up, concentrated, and... vanished. Turned out the Devil’s clever screen couldn’t quite see everywhere then...

Michael was strolling across heaven, feeling particularly smug. Her plan with downstairs had worked out perfectly. Both the troublesome demon and the renegade angel were neutralised, and all kept quiet as a church mouse. She knew her little foray into the basement branch would turn out useful, but now she’d even managed to get them to keep Aziraphale under surveillance for her! As she passed through a large group of lesser angels, a fluffy, white tuffet of hair caught her eye, but when she turned to look it was gone. She must have imagined it. Ah well, off to write up another beautifully fabricated report for the almighty. Bureaucracy was, she sighed, such a wonderful thing. She wasn’t even sure which side came up with it.  
Still, she’d have them check their surveillance downstairs, just to be on the safe side. And it always gave her such a wonderful feeling to have them do her bidding.

Crowley was still staring at an empty bookshop. He’d prepared himself for heartache, but this was inventive for Hell. He had no idea where his angel was, or what had just happened. But if Aziraphale had his sword back then he would probably be ok.  
Hastur came in, smirking. He could deal with Hastur.

“Oi Kermit, your fancy screen is frozen. What’s the signal coming in on? The telephone network? Didn’t you lot upgrade that when I told you it was going obsolete? ”

Hastur snarled and resolved to find out what a ‘kermit’ was. He went over to the screen. He’d been looking forward to seeing the flash bastard get some punishment after the whole holy water embarrassment, so when Michael approached him with her idea he’d agreed to it instantly. Although now he was feeling like he’d just gained another master.

“Dunno. S’angel technology. They installed it. Sees everywhere they said. Everywhere on Earth. Don’t know why they can’t just supervise him themselves.” He stalked out, frustrated that he’d not only lost out on his gloating, but now he had to call that bloody archangel back to tell her to send down some more pompous angels to fix the bloody screen. And that no, thanks to her screen they didn’t know where the fluffy angel was. He’d get the blame for it though, just you wait.

So it can only see Earth? Thought Crowley. Well that left two places for the angel to have gone, and he’d have heard about it if a flaming sword wielding fool had shown up down here. So that just left one place for him to be. Crowley wasn’t going to hang around any longer. His angel would need him. He’d crossed his fingers when he made that deal anyway. Hell hadn’t bothered with chains or locks, as they thought they had something far more powerful keeping him obedient. Crowley dropped to his snake form and metaphorically legged it before they found out their mistake. But because he was Crowley, before he did so, he took the time to make some adjustments to the screen and scrawl ‘Hastur la Vista Muppets’ on the wall before he left.  
As he slithered unnoticed back into the world, he headed straight for the bookshop. The door was locked but Aziraphale had shown him how to get in safely eons ago. He saw the scene he’d been staring at, unchanged. He turned to leave just as the delivery driver stepped up to the door again.

“Party by the name of...” he checked his clipboard “Anthony… J? Crowley. Sorry I can’t read the middle name, must have spilled a bit of tea there whilst I was waiting for you. Just had a description you see, and that you’d be along shortly after I delivered the first package.”

“Hey aren’t you..?”

“Yes sir. They always send me for the important deliveries. I’m glad you showed up quickly sir, Maud would be awfully angry if I was gone too long without warning. Now if you could just sign here...?”

Crowley considered that signing would mean whoever had sent the package knew he was here, but if they’d sent it here they knew he would come anyway, so he took the pen. Once the driver had left he took the package to the one place he thought they’d never look.

The church wasn’t too busy at this time of day, so nobody really noticed the tall figure walking very strangely to the pews in the corner, and certainly nobody said anything when he put his feet up on the pew. His package had a note on the outside. A note which just said ‘pray’. The package contained an outfit that was a perfect match to his own, but in shades of white and pale. Complete with tartan necktie. The red lined shoes were a nice touch. Last to come out of the package were new sunglasses to replace the ones he’d lost in Hell. Identical in shape again, but these had a golden frame holding luxurious, chocolate brown, reflective lenses. They set off the demon’s hair beautifully. Oh well, he thought, need’s must when the demon rides. He looked back through the clothes. 

“Oh lord, what am I supposed to do with all this?!” He muttered. Well it did say pray.

“Put it on little demon, your best friend needs you.” Whispered a voice in his ear. A voice he hadn’t heard in millennia. Crowley fell off his pew in shock, yelped as he hit consecrated ground, grabbed his package and literally legged it this time out of the church. He headed for Westminster, where hopefully there was enough background evil that he wouldn’t be noticed. This was worse than the end of the bloody world. He looked in the package again. The shoes were rather smart... but he preferred dark colours. Oh well. Crowley waved his hand over himself as Aziraphale had shown him and after a bit of adjustment was satisfied he looked a complete prat. He’d fit right in then, he sighed as he headed back towards the Afterlife Inc. It would take a miracle for him to actually get into heaven though. As he walked, the clouds parted slightly and the sun warmed the back of his neck.  
“Several, actually.” Said the divine voice, bypassing his ears and somehow arriving straight into his head. Crowley was quite glad nobody was paying him any attention in that moment.

Aziraphale’s centuries of making his way around a crowded London were paying off. He had cultivated a bustle that allowed all who glanced his way to merely see an angel going about some important business, but yet was deceptively efficient at getting through crowds. Not that you really saw crowds in heaven, it was by definition eternal in space and time. Which required a bit of creativity getting to where you wanted to be, helped by the required destination being miraculously just around the corner or behind the next door. Even the architecture was ineffable. As long as you concentrated on where you wanted to be, it would be there. It had been a while since Aziraphale had had to negotiate around Heaven, but once you got the knack of it it never really went away. The trick was to be honest with yourself. Doors in Heaven are not as easily fooled it turns out. So as the vengeful angel didn’t know where Metatron resided, he thought about finding the who, instead of the where. He imagined the Metatron’s face that had appeared to him in his bookshop, and tried to recall the voice. He pictured himself standing before the Metatron. He needed to want it more than anything for it to appear close. As he bustled around a corner, sure enough there was a door. With once hand on his sword he opened it and strode boldly through.

And walked full body into Crowley.

He could see his demon’s eyes through the sunglasses, in their full serpentine glory, but the pupil was fully dilated. The demon’s usually supple body felt stiff, as if coiled, ready to strike. Aziraphale could smell the demon’s scent, so familiar to him, and yet so bittersweet. Crowley looked utterly terrified.

Aziraphale couldn’t handle seeing his demon again. And dressed like an angel of all things! He pushed past him and into… an empty room. Why in Heaven’s name would there be an empty room here? He knew the answer even if he wouldn’t admit it to himself. Still facing the blank wall Aziraphale tried to calm his mind. He hadn’t been honest enough with himself about who he truly wanted. But he never expected Crowley to actually be in heaven. The demon truly had no shame.

“Hi angel...” came a gentle voice behind him. A voice that cut straight to his soul. No. Not him. Not now.

“What do you want Crowley. How did you even get in here? Don’t tell me you’re involved in all of this too?!” He couldn’t bear to face Crowley. That would be too much to take.

“I had some help from... a higher authority. I don’t know what’s going on, I only came for you. Please turn around?” Crowley asked softly.

Aziraphale pulled the sword slowly from the scabbard.

“Your lot really do have some nerve sending you up here.”  
Aziraphale finally turned to face his demon, with an expression that said fire and brimstone would feature in the near future. The fire he could supply immediately - the sword burst into life with a crackle. Crowley gulped. He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out what brimstone actually was.

“First you set your sights on an angel, and now, what? You’ve come up here to retrieve your bounty?!” Aziraphale held up the sword with a flourish, and advanced.  
“I’m sending you back where you belong, foul fiend!” This time there was no affection in the way he used the term.

Crowley backed away. He was no good at fighting. Snakes don’t have much use for swords. And besides, he’d always been able to suggest, and persuade, and arrange for others to do the actual dirty work for him.

Truth be told, Aziraphale was pretty useless at combat as well. He’d always hated conflict, but he was damned if he was going to let the demon cause any more damage. He was probably damned anyway but that was besides the point.


	4. White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heaven is closing in, and Crowley tries to explain.

Sandalphon was stalking around heaven. He was annoyed that the war had been cancelled. He’d been looking forward to some good old fashioned smiting. He’d had his dental cross polished up just for the occasion. It had been too long since they struck fear into the hearts of evildoers, in his opinion. Angels were going soft, and the demons in hell were starting to get ideas above their station. As he mused upon a fitting punishment for uppity demons, his juggernaut of thought was sent into a screeching halt in its thunderous tracks as his nose sent up a battle cry. There was Evil around. Sandalphon’s face contorted into what would be described as an evil grin if he weren’t an angel, but as he was a soldier of God it was a righteous smirk, and followed his nose. 

Gabriel was staring into the glorious panorama that lay outside the window. His silhouette seemed to have lost its gravitas, his posture not quite so mighty, as if there was a heavy weight on each shoulder. He was an archangel, and he was having a crisis of faith. He’d worked so hard to make sure heaven ran efficiently. There was no need for everyone to know everything, he reasoned. They just needed to know enough to do their duty. He’d implemented so many procedures, and got all the choirs of angels singing from the same metaphorical hymn sheet. They would have won the war, and it would have been glorious. But now he was lost. He knew God had a habit of testing Her subjects, but he’d never considered himself in that class. And now she wouldn’t even reply to him. Sure it had been a while since he actually tried to talk to her, his system of memos and reports meant actual conversations were rarely necessary anymore, and allowed everyone to get on with their duties. But she just wouldn’t respond and he was worried. Perhaps he’d failed Her by not bringing the whole Aziraphale situation to a satisfactory conclusion. Perhaps once that was finalised she would be there for him again. He summoned Michael. At least he could trust her, she was efficient. She got the job done. 

“What’s the current location of our flame retardant traitor?” Gabriel asked without turning from the view. 

“I’ve got one of the lower levels tracking him.” was her reply. Gabriel didn’t even realise they had lower levels in heaven - his system was really working.   
“I’ll make some enquiries.” She walked away, and even managed do be efficient about that. 

Shit, she thought. With Hell’s surveillance down, she might have to actually start looking for that soft waste of feathers herself. 

“Listen, Aziraphale, I need to explain, back in the flat…” began Crowley. He was talking fast and watching the swaying sword the whole time. Almost swaying with it as if charmed. “It’s not what it looks like, everything I told you in the flat was a lie. Well, except for the coffee, that stuff really is dire. But look, Hell came after me. They were never going to leave us alone. They said it was me, or you. They didn’t care who they took. I couldn’t let them take you, but I needed you to not come looking for me. It was the only way to get them to leave you in peace.” 

Aziraphale faltered. Leave him in peace? No. In pieces more like. “Why should I trust you now Crowley? You took me for everything that I had! You’re a demon! Your kind are renowned for lying!” 

“I told you, I don’t lie to you about the important stuff. Present events excepted. Anyway would I come here if I didn’t care? Where even are we anyway? This place looks nothing like I remember.”

Aziraphale’s resolve was softening. He so desperately wanted to believe his demon, but the hurt ran too deep. 

“It’s Gabriel’s idea. He modernised and introduced bureaucracy.”

“Really? I thought our side invented that. Should have guessed it was a bit too smart for them. Now can we please get out of here? It’s leaving a horrible taste in my mouth.” 

“I would have thought your feet would be burning.” Scolded Aziraphale.

“Something in the shoes I think.” Said Crowley, pointing to his feet. “must have something clever in them to insulate me. Came with the outfit”

“Yes, about that. Bit tasteless don’t you think? Dressing like an angel? One that wasn’t cast out for bad behaviour and deemed unforgivable, I mean.” He’d put extra emphasis on the ‘unforgivable’. Aziraphale knew it was a low blow, but he was still not sure if he wanted to open his heart again. 

Just then Sandalphon appeared at the doorway. He could see the back of what looked like an angel, and in front of him, brandishing a lit sword and reeking of evil was... 

“TRAITOR” he bellowed. Aziraphale froze. Crowley spun round and saw the avenging soldier of God advancing. He grabbed his angel and threw them both through a door they hadn’t noticed was there until now. By sheer miracle it happened to be one that led to Earth. 

“What?!” Said Crowley staggering out of the doorway. It slammed shut behind them. He glanced at Aziraphale who had a familiar smug look on his face.   
“Ugh don’t tell me. Ineffable.”

Aziraphale gave Crowley a scornful look while he sheathed the sword with slightly more flourish than was necessary, and tucked it away inside his coat. He adjusted his clothes and set off towards the river, with Crowley trailing behind. They disappeared into the usual London crowds. Sandalphon wouldn’t come after them on Earth just yet. 

“We don’t have time for this now Crowley. I have more important things to do.” Aziraphale said curtly. He turned away from his demon once again, but this time hoped he wouldn’t be followed. 

“She spoke to me Aziraphale. She gave me the clothes and she put me in heaven. What in Hell’s na- Heaven’s na- argh WHAT have you got yourself into this time?!”

Aziraphale stopped. They’d reached the Thames in all its urban glory. 

“She’s given me a task Crowley. I’ve been handed celestial orders right from the source. I do not need rescuing. And I still can’t trust you.”

Crowley had been too clever with his plan again, and it was going to take a while to unravel this one.   
“The whole of Heaven and Hell are searching for us now. What are you going to do?” He asked. 

“Well, you know, smite the unjust. Banish evil. That sort of thing. I got the sword back so I presumed I was to use it. But now I suppose I’m more lost than ever. I don’t think I’m cut out for this in truth. I just wish I knew where to go from here.”

He turned to lean against the wall, and saw a lorry waiting at traffic lights. You didn’t usually see lorries that big in this part of London. It was from a company called ‘Heavenly Cargo’, who were apparently based in Holyhead, Wales. Aziraphale tutted. Someone probably thought they’d been so clever with that borderline blasphemy. He wouldn’t have put it past Crowley to have suggested it actually. The vehicle behind was a taxi that had allowed advertisers to plaster its sides. This one was advertising an RSPB site in Holyhead. They were a bit far from home. Then the lights changed, the vehicles moved, and the turbulence from the lorry disturbed a band poster that fluttered towards them. Crowley caught it, glanced at it and tossed it aside. It fluttered up again and got caught on a street sign, with only the band name showing. The Holy Heads.

Aziraphale gasped and grabbed Crowley. “Have you still got the Bentley?” He asked. He didn’t trust Crowley just yet, but maybe he could use him.


	5. Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As true colours start showing, God is angry. Help comes from a surprising source, but an Angel falls, and a demon needs to rise in its place.

Hastur was fed up. He’d taken the celestial technicians to the screen, which instead of following that stupid angel, was now resolutely showing some animal puppets. He’d watched a bit while he waited and so far loathed them all. The whiney pig in pearls wasn’t too bad. He could work with that. The rest just seemed like imbeciles, and not worth his time. He had learnt what a ‘Kermit’ was though. Hopefully those technicians would get it sorted out soon.

“It’s no good. We need to replace the whole system. It wasn’t designed to work in these conditions and it won’t respond.”

“Just leave it here until you have a new one then.” Hastur said grumpily as they started to pack up. “In case it miraculously starts working again.” He wanted to find out why Crowley had called him one of these ‘Muppets’.

It was a long drive to Holyhead, even at Crowley’s speed. To avoid having to talk about anything personal, Aziraphale tried to explain what had happened since he’d left Crowley’s flat.

“It’s the Metatron Crowley, he’s taken over and seems to be doing his own thing”

“What the devil is a ‘megatron’?

“Metatron. He’s the voice of God. Apparently it was another thing they brought in with all the bureaucracy. He answers prayers, and only passes the big ones up to... you know. Trouble is, he stopped listening to the response. Then he stopped passing them up. He’s taking over! Won’t let anyone actually talk to God. She’s been trying to get my attention for a while but I was so preoccupied with keeping a low profile I didn’t see it. She has to be discreet because she doesn’t know who else is involved. I obviously can’t be as I’ve been down here, tidying up after you.”

“...Obviously”

“Don’t make that face Crowley, this is important. There could be another uprising and it’s down to us to stop it!”

“Oh so you’re trusting me again now then?” He was being petty and he knew it, but old habits die hard.

“Not in the slightest!” Blustered Aziraphale. “But it doesn’t look like I have much choice. She must have sent you after me for a reason. It’s certainly an ineffable one.”

Crowley just smiled. He knew that tone of voice. His best friend was back, even if he hadn’t realised it himself yet.

Gabriel was getting irked. Possibly even irritated. What was the point of corporate efficiency if it took this long? He decided to check the Earth surveillance himself. As he stood at the portal, he saw the renegade angel screaming down the A5 at an altogether ridiculous speed, and no wonder. That demon was driving. And, how tasteless, he was dressed as an angel! Gabriel had no time for his utter lack of style (Angel’s have standards, you know) and anyway, wasn’t he supposed to be in Hell again now? That’s what the report had said. This was going to require some strongly worded memos.  
Sandalphon thundered in. His face was twisted with fury.

“That renegade angel was here! Waving his sword around at other angels. He’s kidnapped someone. We need to put a stop to this, and do it properly this time.”

Gabriel was not enjoying this day. But at least Sandalphon was reliable. “I’m watching him here. Who did he kidnap?”

“I couldn’t see the other angel’s face.” Sandalphon moved to look at the portal. “That’s him! That’s the angel he kidnapped! But, that’s not an angel...”

So that’s why the demon was dressed like that. Gabriel was disgusted. Industrial espionage. A new low for Hell.  
“Watch them Sandalphon. Find out where they’re going and notify me. I want to be there when we detain them this time. Both of them. I don’t care what Hell says.” Sandalphon could be messy, and Gabriel hated mess. He liked neat and precise, but someone like Sandalphon could make a very weighty moral argument when needed.

The RSPB sanctuary on Holy Island was staggeringly picturesque. It was peninsula off the Welsh coast, jutting out West into the Irish Sea, and it had towering cliffs that were home to thousands of Sea birds. Of course it would be chuffing birds, thought Crowley. She really did like feathers.  
In fact Holy Island had been enjoying a rising population of birds for some time. It was by far the RSPB’s most successful reserve, but nobody could quite work out why. There was nothing particularly special about it, but nevertheless it saw all manner of birds that would make even the most stoic twitcher weep. It may have had something to do with the local warden. She was old, but not elderly, and nobody knew how long she had been there. Nobody could accurately describe her once they had met her either, but the birds trusted her. No, they loved her. They would fly down to greet her every day as she strolled around the reserve. She was a legend amongst the birdwatching community, known only as Faith.  
So it happened that the fallen angel and the renegade angel followed a pair of doves to where all the birds were sat, watching a woman standing at the top of a cliff, staring out to sea. A bald eagle watched Crowley with interest. Not a normal visitor to the Welsh coast, but word had spread of the divine warden. It knew what the demon was, but was surprised to see one with legs.

Crowley hung back as Aziraphale gingerly approached. The sun came out as she turned around, dazzling the onlookers so they couldn't see her face. All the birds took to the air, briefly forming the shape of a colossal pair of wings that stretched out across the sky, as if sheltering the whole world. Aziraphale fell to his knees, while Crowley tried to hide himself behind a rock. Both utterly terrified and yet enraptured at the same time.

“My Angels.” She said. Her voice caressed the eardrums. It would enrobe your whole body, and cradle your soul. It was divinity itself. Aziraphale found it soothing. His endless cups of cocoa and searching for the next morsel of Earthly culinary delights were, he realised, just an attempt to capture this feeling again. For Crowley it was a painful reminder of what he had been cast away from, yet he couldn’t look away in case it ended.

“Angels? Oh! Bu- he- no he’s not...” stammered Aziraphale.

“He may he fallen, but he is still an angel. Come here Crowley, you have nothing to fear.”

Crowley was powerless to stop his legs from stumbling over to where Aziraphale knelt. He dropped beside him, still not having taken his eyes away from her, not even to blink. He was suddenly struck by the terrifying prospect that, despite everything he had done, he was just not worthy. He would never, could never, be worthy of this. And yet he still couldn’t bear to let this moment end.

“Crowley do you know why I sought you out? Why I sent you those clothes?”

Crowley was dumbstruck for once, so managed only a tiny shake of his head.

“You sacrificed yourself to save another. Knowing what would happen to you, you gave your life so that Aziraphale might live in peace. And you managed it without telling everyone else to be kind to each other. You make an interesting demon, certainly. Keep the clothes - the colour suits you.”

Crowley still couldn’t move. His face was awash with tears. Aziraphale looked at Crowley and his heart shattered again. His best friend, his troubled angel, truly had been protecting him this whole time. The enormity of yet another revelation hit him - it was real, it was all real, and Aziraphale had nearly killed him for it. Well, tried anyway. Certainly thought about it.

“My dearest Aziraphale.” His face turned itself back to Her voice, and it enveloped his tattered heart with promises of healing.  
“I sent you to Earth for a reason. You were the only angel capable of understanding humans. And now you are the only angel that I know cannot be involved in Metatron’s deception. Gabriel has made heaven so efficient that the angels now believe in the system more than in me. The humans, too, are slipping into believing in the church more than in God. I came down to Earth to see what was happening for myself, and I’ve been stranded here ever since. I have been ‘inconveniently corporated’ shall we say. Which is why I need you. Both of you. Go back to heaven, disconnect Metatron so that I might return.”

“Amen” replied Aziraphale hoarsely. Crowley couldn’t bear for this moment to end. He had missed Her presence for so long he was having trouble giving it up. Aziraphale gently wrapped his arms around his friend, guided him slowly to the cliff edge and, carefully lifting him as if he weighed no more than a feather, spread his own wings and took flight. Whereupon any twitchers watching would have marked down the wandering albatross in their books, for what else could those enormous white wings have possibly been?

As they ascended, Crowley regained his faculties and promptly informed his ride that were he to ever mention this to anyone - ANYONE - he would find his bookshop suddenly infested with all manner of paper-munching creepy crawlies.

They arrived at one of many secret entrances to heaven (even angels like to get out a bit now and then without having to submit paperwork) and, having removed the Welsh mud and hopefully different coloured Welsh mud from their clothes, quietly and calmly walked in. They employed their usual bustle and saunter, following the directions in their heads that felt like a memory they’d just rediscovered, to the doorway of the celestial control panel that was Metatron’s domain.

“What are we supposed do now?” Asked Aziraphale quietly.

“Well she gave you the sword and showed you where to go... might as well use it?” Suggested Crowley.

“I can’t kill Metatron!” Gasped Aziraphale “What would happen to all the prayers?! No there must be something else we can do. Subdue him without lethal force. Does the vanishing thing work up here? Or if we have to use the sword maybe you can do it? You’re a demon, it would be more fitting.”

“Nnnnah weeeell it’s not really my thing... I’m more of a ‘lead you astray’ type fiend. And it’s your sword. Unless you have any better ideas? Or one, single, better idea…?”

Sandalphon had been trying to track the traitorous angel, but something had been blocking his location. Something big. Suddenly he appeared again. He was back in Heaven! This time he would not escape. With a righteous glint in his eye, Sandalphon set off, via Gabriel’s office. He would want to be there for this.

“Maybe we should go back to Earth until we have a plan..?” Suggested Aziraphale. “Before we get caught.”

“Too late for that you two!” Said Gabriel from the other end of the corridor. Crowley grabbed Aziraphale and shoved him through the door. They backed towards the edge, Aziraphale with his sword drawn, but not lit, as Gabriel and Sandalphon came in.

The room didn’t look particularly big, but at the other end there was a switchboard of biblical proportions. It seemed so much larger than the room could allow, but then again the laws of physics were an Earthly invention. Sat at the epicentre, with his hands placed gently on a colossal dashboard was Metatron. His eyes were closed as he focused on the signals coming in and out of the switchboard. He was totally engrossed.

“So what was your plan guys?” Teased Gabriel. He had found his confidence, and stood with his hands tucked into the pockets of his pristine cashmere coat. “Force Metatron to let you talk directly to God to beg for Her forgiveness? Well tough luck. She doesn’t talk to renegade angels and demons.”  
Sandalphon just watched them, hungrily.

“But that’s the problem Gabriel.” spluttered Aziraphale “she doesn’t talk to anyone. She can’t. Metatron saw to that!”

“That’s a ridiculous accusation. Metatron couldn’t do that.” Said Gabriel, but Crowley heard the doubt in his voice. He wasn’t part of it! Well a demon could work with that.

“She doesn’t talk to you either, does she.” He said “her principle archangel. Bet she hasn’t for a while. Go on,” he tempted. “Might as well check whilst we’re here. We can wait.”

“Angels don’t just turn on God!” Gabriel scoffed, less sure this time. A quiet voice in his head was suggesting that it rather liked the explanation that he wasn’t to blame for God’s silence towards him.

“Oh don’t they?” Aziraphale asked, pointing to Crowley. Who produced his best ‘told you so’ grin. It wasn’t great, but then he didn’t get to use it a lot. Meanwhile Sandalphon had quietly shifted to block the exit.

Gabriel wavered. No. He would check. Just so he could prove them wrong. Metatron had been so engrossed in his duties he hadn’t paid any attention to the events behind him. Gabriel took one hand out of his pocket and walked over and placed it on the dashboard. Now it had been a while but if you just do this... he thought. Then his expression changed as he felt the blocked channels. Enraged, he grabbed Metatron and threw the shocked angel from the console.  
“HOW COULD YOU?!” He roared. His usual calm control vanished. “All those prayers, all that responsibility and you abused it! You had no right to make those judgements. No right to keep Her from me - from all of us!”

Metatron had been caught off guard, but rose to his feet.

“I was perfectly capable of managing Earth.” He said, brushing himself down. “I had it all ticking along smoothly, and she kept undoing all my good work. She drowned an entire civilisation! I’m the one that knows what’s going on around here and gets things done! She was superfluous and was getting in the way. It’s progress!”

“That is not your decision to make.” Said Gabriel, his voice like ice. He moved his hands across the panel and shut his eyes. He was a little rusty, but it should open the way if he did this, and this...

“No!” Shrieked Metatron, lunging towards Gabriel “you’ll ruin everything...”

Faster than should have been possible, Gabriel had grabbed Aziraphale’s sword and held it up to Metatron’s neck. In his hands it burned with a luxurious flame that lazily caressed the blade. It’s danger lie in the heat, burning with a lilac tint. The Archangel Fucking Gabriel was back. He nodded at Sandalphon.

Sandalphon moved forward and gleefully secured Metatron’s arms, as the room filled with glorious light. Metatron struggled in Sandalphon’s grasp, but he may as well have been a mouse attempting to push a cliff.

She had returned. God moved forward and gently lowered Gabriel’s sword arm.

“Thank you Gabriel, you have done well, as usual. I’ll take it from here,”

Gabriel was still bristling. The flames licked the sword with purpose. He had been fooled and he was fuming. There would be changes. God turned to Metatron, hanging limp in Sandalphon’s crucifying embrace.

“You have disappointed me Metatron. I trusted you with great responsibility and you abused that trust. You know what I have to do now.” She waved Her hands and suddenly the floor was gone and they were standing on nothing, over a great abyss. It was astronomically vast, and the stench emanating suggested the bottom was flowing with sulphur that had been allowed to get really very excited indeed. Crowley yelped and backed frantically away, startling Aziraphale.

“Sandalphon you may release him”

“My pleasure.” He said. The definitely-not-evil grin was back.

Metatron fell. His screaming protests and pleas were met with cold indifference. He had been judged, and was found unworthy. There would be no mercy. As the angel fell his wings burned. Metatron’s face and body became scarred as the sulphur burned him. Aziraphale was horrified. He had heard that the abyss judged the fallen, and the more evil it found in its victims, the more they would be tormented. Burning away more of their angelic gifts, but he had never imagined it to be this cruel. “Oh Crowley” he said softly, as he understood the full horror of what his best friend had been through.

As the floor returned Crowley clung to it. God carefully cradled the demon’s face in Her hands and lifted him to his feet. There was a warmth in Her touch that went beyond mere temperature. He tried not to look at her. The pain would be too great to have to leave again if he did.

“Thanks for the ride” he said “but this is my cue isn’t it. I’ll show m’self out, I’ll take the stairs. No need to go to all that effort for me. Again.” he said, gesturing at the floor, and turned to go before they thought otherwise.

“Gabriel,” God said “It appears we are an angel short in heaven. We wouldn’t want the powers of hell to outnumber us now would we? Please make the necessary arrangements while I find a new Metatron.”

“A new angel? Where would I find a new angel?” Gabriel asked. He was puzzled. There hadn’t been any new angels since the uprising.

“Not new Gabriel” She said, watching Crowley. “Just seen in a new light. Someone a bit rough around the edges, but showing great potential. Someone worth having on our side. Someone we might have a use for. He might need a bit of retraining, and directions on which way to saunter in future, but I’ll leave you to work out the details.”

Crowley was motionless with shock and confusion as the other angels just stared at him with interest. Aziraphale burst out laughing, a joyous sound that rollicked around creation, lifting spirits everywhere it went.

And with a final, captivating smile, She went back to wherever God normally resides. It’s probably mountainous, and alive with the sound of something that could be considered music. If you like that sort of thing.


End file.
